One Day he would Say It
by AppleBagel
Summary: Cuddles after making love is one of the sweetest moments of a romance; he'd decided that long ago. And his lover makes it even better. But he just can't seem to manage three words to make the difference. ((2p!PruCan, Drabble, rushed summary because posting this before I go to school, blEH))


Matt let his eyes drift over the exposed body of the Prussian beneath him, examining the signs their love making left on him.

Hickeys on his neck, standing out stark against his pale skin, dancing down to his rather prominent collar bones. Swollen lips from more sloppy kisses than they could probably count. Messed and ruffled hair, tangled in places from the blond twisting the locks around his hand. Bruises on his hips from where Matt gripped too tightly.

His fingertips brushed over the bruises, brow creasing a bit. He didn't like that so much. How hard had he pressed his hands into Akbar's skin to leave bruises? Damn it. Matt wondered if he hurt him at all.

"My skin bruises easily."

The sudden words startled Matt a bit, drawing his attention to the face of his lover and away from his body. Akbar was staring at him, expression neutral.

"They don't hurt."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

Matt leaned back up to kiss Akbar's lips, a gentle peck that the Prussian happily returned. He placed a hand on the other's cheek, brushing white locks out of the way.

They pulled apart, and Matt looked at the other with half open eyes. It was dark, late at night, and they could still hear the heavy rain pounding on the roof and windows. Akbar stared back, head tilted to the side.

Matt reached over and turned off the dim lamp on the nightstand, before flopping onto his back, next to his lover, who slowly slid down to lay with him. The dark red sheets wrinkled and pulled with their movements as they curled around one another, blond wrapping arms around silverette and Prussian tangling legs with Canadian.

It wasn't their usual sleeping position, but it was warm and comfortable and in the end both of them was there with the other so why did it really matter anyway?

"I want pancakes in the morning," Akbar murmured.

"We always have pancakes in the morning," Matt replied, voice quieter than usual.

"Your point?"

"You really don't need to specify pancakes anymore. They're sort of the default," The blond sighed, pulling the blanket over them. The air was chilly and the Prussian snuggling with him was chillier. Not as chilly as usual, but chilly. He was always cool in temperature and it suited him, but lead to shitty sleeping conditions on cold nights.

Akbar never seemed to mind much, accustomed to the cold. As well as he had his boyfriend as a heat source. Matt was better than a fire on a stormy day; he was Akbar's own personal sunray.

The Prussian nuzzled into him, letting his eyes flutter shut. "I love you, Matt," He whispered.

Matt's cheeks flared up bright red, but he cleared his throat and tried.

"I . . . Ah, I . . . erm . . . I- I, uh, I . . . Yeah. . ."

Akbar let out a small laugh, almost a giggle, but softer and slower. "I understand," He assured quietly.

Matt gave a partially relieved, partially sad, but mostly small smile, running his fingers through Akbar's hair.

The blond shut his eyes, huffing out a sigh. Pausing a moment, he listened to the world around him.

Akbar's slow, measured breathing. The repeating tick of the clock on the night stand. The rain pounding relentlessly against the tiled roof. The howl of the wind in the tall trees, rustling the pines and leaves.

The entire atmosphere was calm, yet not. It made him feel heavy, but not in a bad way. Like his body was laced with the rain clouds themselves, blurring his perceptions with their fog. Like in this moment, he was meant for nothing more than curling up in bed with his lover.

His lover.

His lover he'd yet to manage to say a simple "I love you" too, no matter how many times the monotone male had said it to him.

Every morning, it was the first thing he heard from Akbar's lips. Even before "Pancakes?" was said, he made his affections known. And even with his unexpressive face and toneless voice, Matt knew he meant it. That every bit of him was _trying _to feel as much as his broken soul could manage, just for him. Because he loved him.

And Matt loved him back.

But he couldn't manage to mutter the three words back. It should be simple. It should be so _horribly_ and _obviously _simple that they just spilled from his lips whenever need be because he _did _love him. Adored him, even.

He knew. One day he would manage it. He would yell the words at him, kiss him with all his passion and say it. Again and again he would cry how much he loved him, how much he really, really did. He would pull the Prussian into his arms and spin him around, laughing and smiling and just managing it.

_"I love you. I would move mountains if you asked. I would tear the stars from the sky and thread them on a piece of lace to be weaved into your hair if it made you smile. I love you. I'm a sappy, romantic piece of trash that only knows how to spew pretentious bullshit and I love you." _

One day he would say it.

**A/N: would you look at this. It's a drabble. An itty bitty drabble that only exists because for some reason I couldn't manage to make myself write anything else. **

**Coming up next includes but is not limited to: 2p!Canadax2p!Prussiax1p!Canada (AkyCanCan is what I've been calling it) **

**Merman!Akbar (u know u want the merbutt) **

**Next chapter of deer prince Akbar story (hopefully)**

**PRUSSIAN CORPSE BRIDE IT'S NOT ABANDONDED I SWEAR **

**Rule 63'd 2p!PruCan because boys are icky **


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